Eighteen
Yavi’s heart ached as they descended Mount Solara and entered the icy tundra of the central plains of Nandala. Graciella’s pleading hazel eyes still haunted his vision, as did the beauty of her perfectly shaped and smoothly textured body in the firelight. Oh, he’d relished the creamy sweetness of her supple, curvy form, drinking her in like a starved man, like a thirsty desert traveler who had stumbled upon a lush oasis. His groin tightened even at the thought of it, of her plump pink lips, full, upturned breasts, and the honeyed-slick folds of her feminine core.
He was humbled by the fact that Tejeshwar had seen fit to grant him her love, to give this precious, uninhibited angel to him as wife. Making love to Graciella had cleansed his soul of the guilt he’d carried these six years—he’d been healed by the joy it gave him to please her, to feel her, to become one with her. The delicateness of the priceless treasure that had been entrusted to his care almost terrified him. Brokenhearted at his leaving or not, there was no way she was going with him into this battle. She didn’t need to witness what was about to take place, for when Yavi got his hands on his father’s sword, he intended to slaughter the Vyrkune until their twice-dead corpses made a stinking, rotting heap at his feet.
§
Graciella ate dinner alone in her room without much appetite. She hoped the twins and their men would defeat the Vyrkune quickly and she’d soon have her husband back in her arms.
She stared at the bed, remembering his delicious lovemaking, his tanned, muscular body glowing in the firelight as he brought ecstasy to her with his lips, his hands, and his body time and again. Needing to distract herself, she stood to pace to the window overlooking the canyon, hugging her arms around herself and gazing out at the stars against the black-velvet sky.
“Lord Zehu,” she prayed under her breath. “Please protect Yavi. Bring him back to me safe. And also Yajna and my sister.”
There was a tap at her door.
When she opened it, Eliv bowed his head. “Empress Graciella, Master Volkan asks to see you. Urgently.”
Graciella followed him down the hallway, out of the guest quarters, and across the garden courtyard. She hurried up the stairs behind him, and at the top Eliv swung open the door of the sanctuary for her to enter.
Volkan rushed forward to grasp her hands. “My daughter. I have ill news.”
Her heart lurched into her throat. “What is it, father?”
“Your younger brother is missing. Along with a horse from the stables.”
§
Yavi and his brother rode hard until they reached Binnaj’s Assassin Army fortress at Anvitha, a half hour’s ride north of Darpan. Yavi was relieved to see Manck and Binnaj rushing to meet them in the courtyard as they rode through the gates. The two generals bowed as Yavi dismounted.
“Report.” Yavi handed Sikar’s reins to a stable boy.
“Darpan and the palace were evacuated last night, Sire,” Manck said. “The city’s inhabitants fled west to take refuge in the villages around Hajan.”
“And no sign of Vyrkune before you left?”
“None, Sire.”
Yajna glanced around the grounds. “Where is Captain Harshad?
“He insisted on staying at the palace.”
Yavi swore in Nandalan. “Surely he didn’t keep the entire palace guard there against our orders?”
“No, Sire.” Manck shook his head. “He stayed alone. The rest of the palace guard is here, with us.”
“At least we won’t have lost our entire guard patrol, then,” Yajna spoke up.
“Yes. But Harshad is a fool. I hate to lose a good man.” Yavi shook his head, resting his hands on his hips. “All right. Let’s convene in Binnaj’s quarters. The queen needs to rest.”
§
Graciella went with Volkan to search Rafe’s room for any clue as to where he’d gone. “Did he keep a journal, by chance?” she asked Volkan as he opened the chest at the foot of Rafe’s bed.
“Not that I am aware of.” He stepped aside to allow her to do the search.
Graciella rifled through Rafe’s clothing, finding an extra pair of slippers under his folded robes. She moved the slippers aside and saw a small piece of parchment with a single word written on it, scrawled in bold, angry letters.
UMAN.
§
Yavi stood at the map table with Yajna and laid out his strategy to the two generals and their seconds, Shardul and Terthan. He had been meditating on a plan during the ride south, when he could force his thoughts away from his new wife.
He placed a finger on the drawing of Darpan. “Yajna, the queen, and I will go to the palace tonight to retrieve my father’s sword from the emperor’s quarters. Volkan believes it was used successfully against Vyrkune by some Zulfikar warrior in ancient times, and we must have it before we go into battle.”
“Archan of the Zulfikars.” Binnaj nodded. “He wielded a black zirconium greatsword against the Vyrkune horde and defeated them.”
Yavi frowned. “Why does everyone know this legend except for Yajna and me?”
“I know not, Sire.” Binnaj shrugged. “My grandmother used to tell it to me when I was small.”
“I’ve never heard of Archan of the Zulfikars, either, Sire,” Manck supplied.
“Nor I,” Terthan said.
Yavi waved a hand impatiently. “Well, in any case, regular swords and arrows only immobilize them for a few moments. We learned that at the underground fortress.”
“Yes,” Yajna agreed. “We can only pray that Volkan is correct, and that our father’s sword in Yavi’s hands will prove effective at killing them permanently.”
Manck raised an eyebrow. “One man with one sword against an entire army of Vyrkune, Mahaj?”
Yavi folded his arms. “If this Archan did it, so can I.”
“Regular weapons immobilize them for how many minutes, Sire?” Binnaj asked.
“Five or six at the most,” Yajna answered. “But the rest of us can fight to slow them down for my brother’s sword. We keep fighting no matter how many times we have to put down the same Vyrkune and wait for Yavi to slay them all.”
Yavi braced his hands on the table, peering down at the worn fabric of the map. “General Manck, how long will it take for Black Army reinforcements to arrive from the outposts at Hajan and Ularia?”
“Two days, Sire. They should start arriving tomorrow night. First from Hajan, and perhaps the following morning from Ularia.”
Yajna spoke. “If the Vyrkune are already in Darpan when we arrive, brother, they will be hungry and looking for fresh meat.”
“Yes. We can’t delay in pressing an attack, lest they begin to scour the countryside raiding farms and nearby villages.” Yavi stood up straight. “We will know more once we infiltrate the palace tonight.”
“Sire, a detachment of assassins can go with you,” Binnaj suggested. “Surely you aren’t planning to go with only your brother and the queen?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m planning,” Yavi replied. “I do not want to endanger any Black Army troops until I have the Zulfikar sword. The Vyrkune won’t stop until they have devoured every living being in their path.”
Binnaj fell silent.
“Once we have the sword and have confirmed Uman’s location, we will return here, so that we can make a coordinated attack on his Vyrkune army together.”
Binnaj nodded. “Aye, Sire.”
§
Back in her room, Graciella quickly tugged on her boots under the monk’s robe, then draped Yavi’s robe over hers as a cloak for extra warmth. She wasn’t taking no for an answer—she was going after her brother. Without Jiandra there to protect and calm Rafe, she was the only one left to do it, and there was no way she was going to let Rafe run off alone into danger.
Volkan met her outside the guest quarters, his gray eyes worried. “My daughter—”
Graciella held up her hands. “Forgive me, father, but I must go after Rafe.”
“I know. I will not try to stop you. His soul is in the balance, and you must try to reach him before he is lost. I have eight of my warriors ready with horses in front of the monastery. They will go with you to find Rafe. If he is going after Uman, then his path will lead directly into the battle. My warriors will guide you there and protect you.”
Graciella nodded.
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her through the monastery, out the front entrance where her guard detail waited on horseback. Once there, Volkan removed a short, shiny sword from his belt. “Do you know how to use a blade?”
“Yes, a little. Yavi gave me lessons.”
“Good.” Volkan closed his eyes to whisper a prayer over the sword before handing it to her. She took it by the hilt and secured it at her waist under her belt.
“You will ride with Terak. He is skilled with horses.”
Graciella looked up at the hooded monk who sat peering down at her from the back of his horse, his silver eyes piercing. He reached down with one hand and helped her climb onto the horse behind him. The monk robes were specifically designed to cover one’s legs and fit over a horse’s back almost like trousers, she discovered as she settled onto the hindquarters of the horse.
Master Volkan addressed Terak. “Take no unnecessary risks with my daughter. She should be kept away from the battle if at all possible. If you see the Korvakaran, try to lead him away from the battle so that his sister can try to calm him.”
Graciella frowned. “If you see the what?”
Volkan met her gaze grimly. “Korvakaran. It means the demon’s chosen.”
She swallowed, her heart twisting for Rafe.
“Now go. Tejeshwar protect you, my daughter.”
Terak gave a hand signal to the others, and they were off, galloping with great speed. Graciella clung to the monk’s muscular flanks for dear life, praying Rafe would be all right.
§
Yavi secured Sikar’s reins to a branch, then joined his brother and Jiandra in the cover of the trees. They peered up at the lights glowing in the upper windows of the palace.
“Surely Captain Harshad wouldn’t have that many torches lit,” Yajna muttered. “It must be Uman and his lackeys inside.”
Yavi sheathed his scimitar on his left hip and pulled his hood over his head. “Let’s go.”
The three of them hurried toward the eastern wall of the palace, pausing in the cover of some bushes before running across the open space in the moonlight to the base of the wall. Yavi threw his grappling hook up, hooking it on the balustrade above. He held the rope out to his brother.
Yajna climbed the rope quickly, slipped over the edge of the balustrade at the top, then looked over it and nodded at Yavi.
Yavi helped Jiandra climb onto his back, then pulled them both up the line until they reached the top. Yajna reached over and lifted Jiandra over the wall, and Yavi followed her, rolling up the line of his grappling hook once he was on the walkway.
They crouched out of sight, then peered over the inner wall at the grounds below. A group of Vyrkune sat around a fire feasting on bloody animal carcasses, laughing and talking in guttural growls.
Yavi motioned toward the prison building, and Yajna nodded. Yavi went first, staying hunkered in the shadows as he hurried along the walkway until he was directly above the prison. He secured his grappling hook, scooped Jiandra onto his back, and quickly lowered the two of them to the soft earth below.
Yajna followed and retrieved the hook. The three of them crept along the shadows of the prison building until they reached the northwest corner. Yavi flattened himself against the wall, then carefully peered around it. The Vyrkune around the campfire were thoroughly engrossed in their meal, so Yavi looked over his shoulder at his brother, then motioned Jiandra to climb on his back. With her in tow, he bolted stealthily toward the cart that stood in the center of the yard. He ducked behind it to wait for Yajna to join them.
They peered up at the wall of the guard tower at the back of the palace. It was a tall turret, almost too high for the grappling hook, but if they could hook to a window ledge on the northern curve of it, they could slip inside unnoticed. Yavi nodded at Yajna, who crept forward with the hook in hand. He swung it around a few times, then tossed it upwards. It failed to catch, plummeting to the snowy ground below with a soft thud.
Yavi tensed, peering through the slats of the wooden cart at the group of Vyrkune. They were still fully engaged in their raucous, bloody feast, so he nodded at Yajna to try again.
Again the hook failed to catch, and Yajna pulled it back to himself. He slunk along in the shadow of the cart until he was at the very far edge, almost in the line of sight of the Vyrkune, then swung it around and quickly tossed it up.
It caught, and Yavi breathed a sigh of relief. He nodded at Yajna and kept one hand on the hilt of his scimitar while his brother started to climb up. Yavi waited a few seconds to give Yajna some lead time, peering through the cart slats at the group of Vyrkune to make sure they were still distracted, then hurried to the shadows of the palace wall with Jiandra on his back. He ducked out of sight around the curve of the turret and looked up. Yajna was high up on the rope, almost at the window’s ledge. In a few seconds, he disappeared inside, then reappeared to motion Yavi to follow.
Yavi grabbed the rope and began to scale the wall, praying that despite the slightly larger silhouette he and Jiandra formed together, the Vyrkune wouldn’t notice anything amiss. When he reached the window ledge, Yajna leaned over to help his wife inside first. Yavi followed and pulled the line quickly up behind him.
The inside of the guard tower was dark and quiet, so they hurried down a dim hallway that led to Yavi’s wing. They stopped at a wooden door before entering the wing, and Yavi pressed his ear to it to listen. Hearing nothing in the hallway, he opened the door just a crack to peer inside.
The hallway was quiet, but a torch was lit at the far end, between his study and his bedroom. Uman had no doubt already claimed the emperor’s quarters, and could possibly be inside one of the two rooms. They would need to proceed with caution.
“There’s a torch lit. Wait here until I search my bedroom,” Yavi whispered over his shoulder.
“What if someone’s in there and you get attacked?” Jiandra whispered back.
“I’ll grab the sword and jump out a window if someone’s in there and I can’t escape out the door. If I don’t come out of the bedroom in thirty seconds, you two make your escape and meet me by the horses.”
Yajna nodded, and Jiandra fell silent.
Yavi carefully opened the door wide enough to slip through, then left it cracked so his brother could keep watch. Yavi hurried noiselessly down the passageway, halting at his study door and stopping to listen. There was no sound from inside, so he continued on to his bedroom door.
Heavy footsteps approached from around the corner, and Yavi quickly ducked inside his room, bracing himself for a fight in case someone was inside. The room was dark and quiet, so he hurried to the stand that held his father’s sword at the far wall, groping for the large hilt in the darkness.
His hand touched the empty stand, groping over the slats. The sword was gone.
The bedroom door opened, and Yavi slipped into the corner crevice between the bookshelf and the wall, not daring to breathe. His senses were on high alert, listening for any clue as to who had entered and how many of them there were.
Sniffing. The creature could smell him. As footsteps came closer, Yavi shoved the heavy wooden shelf forward, daggers and weapons clattering loudly to the stone floor as the weight of the shelf knocked the intruder off his feet.
Yavi lifted the shelf aside and grabbed the creature up by the front of his leather armor.
Uman’s gruesome face peered up at him, first in shock, then in a leering grin. “Zulfikar twin. I don’t know which one, but that hardly matters, does it?” He raised a clawed hand to strike.
Yavi punched him in the face as hard as he could, hearing the cartilage in Uman’s nose break. He howled in pain as dark blood streaked across his pale, cracked skin.
“Where is my father’s sword?” Yavi shouted, hoping his brother would hear.
“Oh, you mean the black one I found here in my quarters?” Uman clawed at Yavi’s wrists, managing to wrench his hands off. He shoved Yavi aside and rose to his feet. “I gave it to Terijin. He’d had his eye on it for a while, he said.”
Yavi drew his scimitar in a fluid motion, whirled, and sliced through Uman’s leather breastplate. One of the chains attached to his shoulder padding broke, but the armor protected his rotting flesh inside. Yavi shoved a boot into Uman’s chest, and the creature staggered back a bit. He fell into the washstand, toppling Yavi’s pitcher and bowl. They shattered loudly on the stone floor as Uman caught himself against the wall, then turned to glare at Yavi. He growled and rushed forward, but Yavi ducked away from his grasp, leapt on top of the toppled bookshelf, and jumped down on the other side.
Yavi turned to face Uman, putting the windows at his back in case he needed to escape. “Where is Terijin?” he demanded, still brandishing his scimitar.
Uman laughed. “Fool. You won’t be able to take the sword from him. My Vyrkune will devour you as soon as you enter the Great Hall.”
Yavi’s bedroom door opened, and an arrow struck Uman in the side of the head. He toppled to the side and landed on the floor with a loud thunk.
Yajna let Jiandra in and shut the door. He turned to Yavi. “Where is father’s sword?”
“Bastard says he gave it to Terijin.” Yavi sheathed his scimitar. “He’s in the Great Hall with the rest.”
“Bloody traitor of a cook,” Yajna cursed. “Let’s go get it.”
Yavi nodded, and they slipped out of the room before Uman could revive. They crept along the passageway, keeping close to the wall, until they came to the corner. Yavi peered around it down the hall that led to the library and the main staircase down to the Great Hall. Voices emanated from below, grunts of laughter, raucous shouting, and talking.
Yavi kept to the shadows as best he could as the three of them neared the top of the staircase and ducked down behind the large pillars of the balustrade. The Great Hall was packed with Vyrkune, at least two hundred of them, feasting on the bloody carcasses of animals that were strewn over the floor. Yavi spotted Terijin in the crowd with the sword of the Zulfikars slung over his back, laughing with his dinner-mates at the far side of the room. Yavi glanced at the upper balcony on the third floor above the hall, then over his shoulder at Yajna.
Yajna nodded, and Yavi slipped across the hallway and into the library, closing the doors soundlessly behind him. He crept onto the balcony overlooking the sparring courtyard, checking for any sign of Vyrkune below. Finding the courtyard quiet, he leapt up and grasped the ledge above the doorway, climbed onto it, then hoisted himself up to the window ledge above. Thankfully, it was dark inside. He broke the glass with the hilt of his scimitar, unlatched the window, then climbed over the sill and into the solar. He slipped into the hallway and hurried along the shadows to the balcony overlooking the Great Hall from above.
His grappling hook dangled from his hand a moment as he positioned it just above the circle of Vyrkune where Terijin sat. With a practiced hand, he dropped the hook quickly, felt it catch onto the crossguard of his father’s sword, then jerked the line upward, hard.
The sword lifted high into the air, and Yavi pulled the rope hand over hand over the balustrade as fast as he could, while Yajna’s arrows sailed through the air from the balcony on the opposite side of the Great Hall.
At last Yavi grasped the hilt of the heavy sword, slung the blade onto his back, and ran. His brother saw him heading toward the back of the palace, grabbed Jiandra’s hand, and took off running in that direction as well.
Eventually Yavi reached the rear of the palace, ducked into the northeast guard turret, and flattened himself against the curved wall to wait for his brother.
The door opened, and Yajna and Jiandra slipped inside.
Yavi indicated the sword on his back. “You’ll have to give me your bow so you can carry Jiandra.”
Yajna handed his bow and arrows to Yavi, then helped Jiandra onto his back.
Yavi secured his grappling hook on the window’s ledge, then grinned at his brother. “Ladies first.”
“Horse’s arses last,” Yajna retorted, lowering himself over the sill with Jiandra clinging to his back.
Once they were out of sight, the tower door swung open, and a small group of angry Vyrkune glared at Yavi.
He reached over his back for the sword, but the hilt caught in the strap of his brother’s bow. One of the Vyrkune lunged for him, clawing at his arm. Yavi saw sharp, disgusting teeth coming toward his face. He crouched and spun, drawing his scimitar from his hip to slice at the monster’s belly. It fell back, screeching.
Yavi rose and reached over his back to try to grab the greatsword, but another Vyrkune lunged at him before he could free the hilt. He head-butted the creature, hard, and it staggered back against its companions. Yavi quickly pulled Yajna’s bow off his back and dropped it out the open window along with the quiver of arrows. When he turned back, the remaining three Vyrkune lunged at him as one.
Yavi pulled the greatsword off his back and whirled around, swinging the blade in a wide arc just before their wide-open jaws reached his face, and the creatures tumbled to the ground at his feet.
Yavi paused, breathing labored, staring down at them. He knew more would be arriving any second, so he couldn’t wait around to see if they got up or not. He replaced the sword onto his back and jumped out of the window, turning to grasp at the rope on the way down. He caught it and slid down rapidly.
At the foot of the wall, his brother helped catch him to break his fall a bit. Yavi steadied himself on his feet, looked up, and freed the grappling hook just before a Vyrkune stuck his head out to look down. It let out a hoarse cry to alert the others, and Yavi turned to see the Vyrkune guards that had been feasting at the campfire running to surround them.
Yavi brandished the sword of the Zulfikars with both hands while Yajna stepped back and strung an arrow.
The Vyrkune surged forward, and Yavi swung at them. He slashed diagonally in each direction, felling several of them at once. Another group rushed forward, but arrows knocked two of them onto their backs. Yavi swung at the other three, slicing through their chests, arms, and necks. They fell in a heap among the others, and Yavi stepped forward to drive the sword through the hearts of the two Yajna had struck with arrows, hoping they wouldn’t rise again.
“Let’s go!” he whispered to Yajna and Jiandra, and they ran for the shelter of the prison building’s shadows. Once there, Yavi threw the hook up and caught the inner edge of the wall surrounding the palace. Yajna gave Yavi his bow and arrows, took Jiandra onto his back, and climbed the rope quickly.
Yavi followed, secured the hook on the other side, and waited for his brother to climb down with Jiandra first. He tossed his brother his bow and arrows, slid down the rope, and then the three of them ran for the trees where their horses were hidden.
Yavi paused before mounting his horse. “We can’t leave yet. We need to know if the sword really kills the Vyrkune.”
Jiandra shook her head, out of breath. “We can’t face down that entire palace full of Vyrkune, Yavi. They’re too fast.”
“I’m not suggesting we confront the entire horde. I’m thinking if we can catch one alone and kill him with the sword, we can drag him out here and wait.”
“They are sure to pick up our scent soon, brother,” Yajna warned. “If we stay in the area, they’ll likely come to us, but in greater numbers than the three of us can handle.”
“Let’s circle back to the southern gate, slip through the secret passage there,” Yavi suggested. “Hide until we see one who’s separated from the others.”
Jiandra frowned. “But what if they track us there? We’ll have trouble escaping again.”
“This might throw them off a bit.” Yavi drew his dagger, grabbed the blade, and sliced open his palm. He stepped back and dripped the blood over the snow and rocks at their feet, letting it trickle until there was a good amount of blood on the ground. Then he sheathed the dagger and held out his injured hand to Jiandra. “Would you fix this, sister-in-law?”
She smiled and grasped the Omaja in her fist. Its bluish-purple light sprang to life. She covered his bloodied hand with her own, and soon he felt the pain dissipate, the skin seal back together, and strength re-enter his hand. He bent down and used some fresh snow to clean the blood off his skin, then turned to mount Sikar.
They took a wide route around the small forest of trees, then angled back along the road leading to the southern gate of the palace. They dismounted and hid the horses behind the jutting façade of the large gatehouse, used the secret passage to slip inside the wall, then hurried along in the shadows to the back of the stables.
There was movement in the open yard at the back of the palace, sounds of growling and angry shouting. They could hear Uman’s voice over the din, issuing orders.
Yavi threw his grappling hook up to the roof of the stables and motioned Yajna to go up first with Jiandra. Yajna handed him his bow so he could take Jiandra on his back. Yavi slung the bow on his own back over the Zulfikar sword and followed them up. They ducked down behind a pitch in the roof just as the horde rushed toward the southern gate like a herd of vicious animals, chanting “Blood! Blood! Blood!”
Yavi prayed they wouldn’t smell them or their horses on their way out, that the scent of the fresh blood he’d left in the copse of trees to the east would distract them.
As the last of the Vyrkune rushed through the gate, Yajna strung an arrow and picked off one of them at the rear of the group. He fell, convulsing a moment, and the rest of the horde thankfully didn’t look back on their way out.
Yavi leapt off the roof into a pile of hay, then scrambled to his feet and drew the greatsword. He plunged it into the Vyrkune’s chest and looked up just as Yajna tossed his bow down to him. Yajna and Jiandra slid down the rope to the ground, and Yajna retrieved the hook.
“Let’s get him on my horse.” Yavi handed his brother his bow, and Yajna helped him lug the creature through the gate and around the gatehouse to where their horses were waiting. They draped the limp Vyrkune over Sikar’s hind quarters, quickly secured him to the saddle with a rope, then mounted their horses and fled west along Darpan’s outer wall. Yavi prayed the pool of blood he’d left on the ground would buy them enough time to get away from the city and back to the fort.
When they were almost to Anvitha, Yavi noticed that his passenger had not stirred. He calculated that it had been at least twenty minutes since he’d pierced the creature’s chest with the sword, and he hoped that meant the sword had worked.
Ahead of him, Yajna motioned to something behind him. “Brother, look!”
Yavi turned in his saddle to see a sea of dark forms moving in the fields behind them. The horde of Vyrkune had picked up their scent, and were following them to Anvitha on foot.
And gaining on them.
Yavi kicked Sikar into a faster gallop, and Yajna and Jiandra did the same. They could see the torchlights of Anvitha a couple miles ahead, glowing above the gates in the distance. As Yavi closed in on the fort, he began shouting at the top of his lungs at the gate guards.
“Open the gate! Vyrkune are coming right behind us!”
The guards took a moment to hear and understand his shouting, but then Yavi saw the gates swinging open. He looked back. The pale white faces and black gaping mouths of the horde were visible in the moonlight now—they were only a couple hundred feet behind him, and gaining by the second.
By the time Yavi, his brother, and sister-in-law rushed through the gate, there was barely enough time to close it. His soldiers shoved the gate doors shut, then tried to hold them as the horde smashed into them from the other side. The gates were forced open just enough for three Vyrkune to push their way inside. Before Yavi could dismount, they had attacked some of his men, opening their wide jaws and biting into the soldiers’ faces with their sharpened teeth. The remaining soldiers struggled to shove the gate closed completely so they could lower the bar.
Yavi jumped off Sikar, landed on his feet, and drew the greatsword off his back. The three Vyrkune were chewing into his men’s faces and necks, devouring them as if they were platters of meat. As Yavi raised the sword high above his head to kill the nearest one, arrows flew past him to incapacitate the other two. He drove the sword into their hearts as well.
Yavi replaced the sword onto his back and he and Yajna added their muscle to the group of soldiers trying to hold the gate. Jiandra bent over the injured men, attempting to heal them with the Omaja. When Yavi and his soldiers at last were able to hold the gate closed long enough for the guards to lower the bar, he ran to check on the injured.
Jiandra looked up from where she was crouched over two mutilated soldiers, her eyes pained. “I couldn’t heal either of them. It was too late.”
Yavi swore under his breath, then stood and raised his voice to address all the Black Army soldiers in the area. “Alert the generals and rally the rest of the troops. The fort is under attack.”